


Caricature Of Intimacy

by AlexNow



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexNow/pseuds/AlexNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Ryan hates Saturdays. There is no hesitation when he says this. What makes it even worse? Tumbling down a hill with a random guy and having your skateboard bury into the back of your head.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caricature Of Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> No real plot. Just real Ryden/Rydon. Enjoy :D

Ryan didn’t like Saturdays. He hated the way he would wake up to a lonely house after smacking his forehead on his bed somehow and the way it would glow red as he yelled for the children to get off his lawn, like the bitter old man he was. Opposing to the fact that he had only eighteen years of age. 

He lived all by himself, even paying for the apartment rent, after his mother abandoned him at a very young age –claiming she never wanted children- and his father beat him to the pulp until he finally kicked Ryan out of the house.

He hated how his room always stank of rust and the doors would chip, giving of pieces of wood onto the floor and make Ryan’s feet bleed as he walked around the small dwelling, barefoot.

Ryan also couldn’t study. He never finished high school and now never will. Dropping out at age sixteen, he was now damned to be a stinky hobo in the street, begging for money. Ryan hated life. Period.

Cursing at the walls for existing and making him walk even more just to get a glass of water, he didn’t even wince as he felt something dig into his flesh at his foot, leaving a trail of blood behind. 

Ryan Ross was sick of repeating the same thing every day, no new events but instead following his weekly schedules. Every. Fucking. Day. He had no shifts at Starbucks today and no friends to hang out with ... ever.

There was this one dude, Jonathan, which was a year older –in College- he often talked to and who was a very cool and laid-back guy. But then Ryan would open his big, fat mouth and ruin it all, snapping at Jon or offending him. Jon would throw his hands up, a gesture of surrender, and back away.

Ryan hated himself. Thus, causing the scars on his wrist.

Then, there was that other guy who Ryan always saw and exchanged a quiet ‘Hello’ with every time he went to the library. The boy was a year younger than him, studying his third year in high school, where Ryan should be. He had only talked to him a couple of times, seeming as they had both gone there to read, not talk. The boy had light brown hair with bangs that were neatly tucked behind his ear and stunning light blue eyes. Ryan had learned his name was Spencer and that he had a quite bitchy attitude when he defended his point of view and ideas. Spencer was like an Ice Queen, in male. They both would snap and that was one of the many reasons they got along and also didn’t.

Meanwhile, Ryan was clicking the ‘+’ on his television remote control with his glass cup in one hand, passing the depressing news reports and some opera where this one woman yelled at a man with tears streaming down her cheeks about how he could do that to her. He settled with one of the 90’s shows on Comedy Central he didn’t find very stupid like those other programs that lacked of creativity.

Soon, he got tired of feeling useless and threw the control somewhere across the room –he’ll look for it later- and let his cup in his sink. After shrugging his coat on he grabbed his skateboard, which was the last type of transportation he had since he couldn’t afford a car, and began riding somewhere. Where? He has no idea.

Soon he was found riding dangerously fast downhill at an incredible speed he knew could kill him. He would be extremely lucky if there were no cars coming his way from the opposite side. He skidded around the trees below him and let a grin take his features, glancing back and laughing as he noticed how good he had gotten at this thing with wheels in a matter of two years.

Unfortunately, the moment he looked back and checked over his shoulder he felt the board stop abruptly, hitting something solid, and he tumbled off and began rolling the rest of the way down without being able to stop. He felt pity for the person that was beside him after books spewed out of the person’s arms, falling as hard and fast as he was.

With a few grunts exchanged, Ryan finally stopped suddenly after smashing his stomach against a tree trunk with an ‘oof!’. The other person rolled behind him and crashed into him as well. Ryan was sure his small waist was about to be detached from his body. 

And just as Ryan felt that it couldn’t get any worse, his skateboard ran right towards them and smashed into the back of Ryan’s head.

“Ow.” Ryan said. He tried his best to escape from being splattered on the tree but failed miserably, the other person’s weight making it very hard for Ryan’s bony arms.

“Dude, get off me.” Ryan groaned once noticing a mass of short dark brown hair. He had to thank whatever god out there later for making sure it wasn’t a girl, or he’d been dead meat. Accused to the police for trying to kill her, to have an excuse to touch her, rape her, the list goes on and on.

“Damn, that hurt.” The voice said. Ryan rolled his eyes and again tried his best to get his stomach from aching more, pushing his palms –that were planted on the trunk of the tree- forward.

“I’d apologize but it’s quite hard considering I can’t even breathe.”

The boy squeaked and quickly got off Ryan, rolling over to the other side and standing up, back straight and with a sheepish grin. Ryan turned around and gasped for air. He stumbled as he got up and kicked his stupid skateboard aside. He dusted himself off –readjusting his newsboy hat for the millionth time- and raised his eyebrows as he caught the boy staring. The boy (who really only seemed, like a year younger than him –not that the red, thick squared glasses perched on his nose made him seem anything but dorky-) seemingly blushed and began changing weight from one foot to another, staring at the ground.

“What are you still doing here?” Ryan asked, annoyed. The boy seemed surprised by the question and again his cheeks turned a light pink.

“I-I just thought, you know, since you knocked me and my books fell on the top of the hill and-”

“You were in my way.” Ryan snapped. The boy flinched and Ryan held a snort.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

This time, Ryan was really stunned. The last thing he had ever expected was for someone to let him be right, even though he knew he wasn’t. He expected the boy to defend himself and yell at Ryan. Maybe even smack him.

“Who are you, kid?” Ryan asked in a disinterested tone as he bent down and grabbed his skateboard. The boy’s eyes were big, full of innocence and Ryan wondered how much was hidden behind them.

“Brendon,” He answered, and suddenly his edginess disappeared and his hesitance was replaced with a beam, “Brendon Urie!” He exclaimed. Brendon noticed the tips of Ryan’s lips twitched ever so slightly that no one else would have noticed, but Brendon has always been an observant type of person.

“Hello, Brendon,” Ryan replied slowly, acting as if talking to a retarded five year old, “I’m Ryan. Ryan Ross.”

Brendon seemed to be thinking about something then, judging by the way Brendon’s bottom lip was between his teeth and his eyes stared at the sky above. Finally, he nodded.

“Fitting.” He said with a final nod. Ryan rolled his eyes and began walking back to his destination. Even though he had no idea where it was.

He assumed Brendon would leave him alone and go for his books up the long hill. He assumed wrong.

“Where you going, Ryan?” Brendon asked, jogging behind. 

Ryan sighed. “Somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere I’ve never been before.” It wasn’t a lie. Ryan has never explored the small city he lived in. He usually just went to work and the library and never went any farther, refusing to explore Summerlin, Nevada.

Brendon’s eyes lightened up. “An adventure?” He asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

Ryan decided he had no good luck for smashing into Brendon of all people, who was obviously someone who babbled endlessly. Ryan would have gone with the drama queen.

“Because I don’t know where I’m going.” Ryan responded through gritted teeth. Brendon’s grin grew wider –if it were even possible- and he gave Ryan a hopeful look, pleading almost.

“Can I go? I can show you some cool places! I swear, we’ll have fun! We can go to the ice rink, the zoo, an adventure park, maybe even the fair but people say that the-”

“Brendon.”

Brendon’s smile didn’t falter as he was interrupted. “Yes?”

“I am not taking you.”

Brendon then used his adorable pout –since he knew the affect it had on people- full-mode and stared up at Ryan with glimmering eyes.

“What? Why not, Ry,” Ryan ignored the way Brendon used a nickname on him as if they’d known each other for years, “Pretty, pretty please. With a HUGE cherry on top?” Brendon pleaded.

Ryan stared at him. At Brendon’s extremely cute and endearing thick pink lips in a irresistible pout, his huge brown eyes that glistened with tears and full of hope, and the idea of actually having company.

“No.” 

Brendon followed him throughout the city anyway and acted as if he had been invited along.

“Oh, look! An airplane! See how close it is, Ryan!” He would scream eagerly.

“Oh! Do you see that cool car! I want it!”

“There’s a street performer, let’s go see him!”

Ryan seriously would have thought Brendon was new at this instead of Ryan. And that says a lot.

Then after eating at some Deli place, Brendon had the marvelous of going somewhere fun to spend at the rest of the day. He didn’t tell Ryan where they were going and, for once, Ryan let himself be dragged around while Brendon skipped. Ryan had grown sick of his skateboard and left it somewhere in the past street.

When Ryan finds out they’re going on a paintball fight, he groans and curses while Brendon keeps grinning the whole way.  
~.~.~.~  
After this dude named Pete with tattoos all over his arms and a huge grin helped Ryan put his suit on, he went into the arena, holding his gun up high and not caring to shoot anyone he didn’t know, but looking for Brendon who was hiding somewhere behind the barrels.

The suit was heavy on him and his helmet was even worse. He was already sweating and his frail legs couldn’t hold up much.

The horn sounded loud in his pounding ears and then everything turned into chaos. Everyone was running around firing at walls and miserably trying to shoot people and Ryan felt a sting on his lower back. He whirled around and found a boy not much older than him grinning. He recognized Gabriel Saporta, a guy he occasionally argued with while working.

“Try to catch me, fucker!” Gabe yelled, laughing and running. Ryan rolled his eyes, pointed his gun, and shot. Gabe screamed and dramatically fell to the ground. William Beckett, his best friend, walked over and nudged him with the tip of his shoe. Gabe played dead.

Now, to find Brendon.

It wasn’t too hard, considering Brendon absolutely sucked at hide and seek. He giggled rather loudly as everyone around him ran, screamed, and laughed.

Brendon was curled in a corner giggling madly and didn’t even notice Ryan creeping up on him until…

“AHHH!”  
Brendon shrieked and Ryan began laughing as Brendon trembled and, noticing it was Ryan, pouted.

“I could have peed my pants!” He whined. Ryan sorted and pointed the gun towards him.

“You still can.”

“Ry-an.” He begged as he noticed Ryan's paintball was still pointed at him.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“Don’t shoot!” He yelled.

“Why shouldn't I?” Ryan asked, challenging. Brendon grinned and jumped to his feet, a few inches below Ryan’s stature.

“Because, I want to kiss you first.”

Ryan froze, obviously shocked and trying to register the words. With all the noise around him, he was sure he heard wrong. Brendon was grinning from ear to ear.

Ryan blinked. “Huh?”

“I said, I wanna kiss you!” Brendon yelled and threw his arms up.

“I-I”

“Can I? Please, Ryan! I swear it’ll only be a small innocent peck!” Brendon swore. Ryan frantically shook his head.

“I d-don’t understand. Are you, like, drunk or someth-”

Brendon huffed and then locked his hands around Ryan’s head before pulling up and popping the helmet off Ryan, throwing it aside on the floor. 

“I’ll go with ‘something’.” Brendon said cheerfully. Ryan opened his mouth to respond something, anything, but it was too late. Brendon already had planted his lips on Ryan’s.

It was shocking and weird, to say at least. Maybe not as much the fact that Ryan was kissing someone, a boy, and he had always thought he was straight. Apparently, he was terribly wrong as he focused on how Brendon’s lips were as soft as he had imagined. They, unsurprisingly, tasted like candy. Sweet and, well, addicting. Not that Ryan thought that they were addicting, not at all. Or, at least, that was what he was trying to convince himself.

By the time Ryan had finally snapped to his senses, Brendon was already beginning to pull away. Ryan quickly placed his hands on Brendon’s (rather large) hips and pulled him back, biting onto Brendon’s bottom lips. With a couple of Brendon’s moans and Ryan’s pants they had finally felt satisfied and Brendon pulled away. People were either staring or too into the game to notice and Ryan felt his lips swollen and Brendon’s were an extra shade of red as well.

“Let’s play!” Brendon said eagerly and so with a last peck on the lips he carefully put the helmet back on Ryan’s head, seeming strangely very concentrated to not hurt Ryan.

Ryan was smiling the whole time.

The next day, Sunday, Spencer raised his eyebrow as Ryan entered –no, skipped- into the library with a grin placed on his lips. Once Ryan felt Spencer’s gaze he turned and his beaming turned wider. Spencer didn’t ask, just silently kept on reading as Ryan plopped next to him. But his own small smile had climbed its way on his lips as he stared into his book.

Monday, Ryan arrived at Starbucks for work, his hand attached and curled around Brendon’s. Gabe didn’t even turn around as he said from behind the counter “Dude, Ryan. Just find a place to suck your boyfriend’s face off. We don’t need another show like the one you gave us on Saturday.”

Jon laughed lightly and stared at Ryan in question, his eyes shifting to their hands. Ryan shrugged and laughed dreamily at his boyfriend –he just loved the word- as he noticed Brendon’s cheeks tinge with pink.

Tuesday, Ryan woke up early to walk Brendon to school. Brendon was in his last year in high school, where Ryan should be.

Wednesday, Brendon introduced his friends to Ryan, once again blushing the whole way. His friends ‘aww’ed. Even some dude who surprisingly was Pete from the paintball fight place squeezed his cheeks and cooed on how Brendon was now growing up.

Thursday, Ryan didn’t see Brendon at all and sulked the whole day. When Jon tried to comfort him that he’d see him the next day and Ryan, once again, snapped. This time though, Jon didn’t retreat back and leave Ryan alone as if afraid of him. Instead, he grinned and teased on how Ryan was so whipped.

Friday, Brendon surprised Ryan -while Ryan was walking in the street towards his apartment- by jumping on his back and making them fall down the hill Ryan was halfway through. The same hill they met.

Saturday, Ryan was in his room with Brendon lying down next to him. Both were silent.

“Ryan?” Brendon whispered, his voice quivering.

“Yeah?”  
Brendon stood up on the bed and stared down at Ryan as he sat. His eyes were their usually wide length and the tip of his bottom lip was between Brendon’s teeth. Brendon was nervous.

“I- I think I love you.” He whispered. 

Ryan grinned and sat up as well. “I love you too, Bren.”

Ryan connected their lips and Brendon concern evaporated completely. Soon they were feverishly making out, Brendon’s back pressed back on the bed and Ryan on top of him.

Ryan parted away and stared into the ceiling, his head on Brendon’s chest.

Listening to Brendon’s unsteady heartbeat, he sighed happily and thought of all the reasons he loved Saturdays.


End file.
